


Coming Down

by JinxedAmbitions



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, Licking, M/M, Massage, Oral Sex, Rimming, Rough Sex, Scents & Smells, Self-Hatred, Tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:22:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22724620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JinxedAmbitions/pseuds/JinxedAmbitions
Summary: Jaskier knew the expression that Geralt wore.  It was the expression he wore after being on the Path too long between villages.  The look he wore after killing a monster and needing an outlet for his energy.  It was the expression that often led him to hole up in a brothel for days straight, fucking himself to exhaustion or satiation whichever came first.And that look was now firmly focused on Jaskier.OrAfter facing off against a werewolf in the forest, both Jaskier and Geralt need an outlet for their pent up energy and emotions.  So, why wouldn't they help each other out?
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 29
Kudos: 1283
Collections: Abby's Witcher Collection





	Coming Down

Callused fingers picked at the strings of the lute as Jaskier leaned against a tree at the edge of the hollow. The air smelled of wild flowers and the soft moss that clung to every shaded surface. Jaskier had found a particularly soft mound of it beside this very tree and had been sitting on the natural cushion for what was probably hours. 

Roach waited patiently across the hollow, tied to a low-hanging branch and grazing at anything within reach. 

“What do you think of this tune?” Jaskier asked, playing a melody he’d been piecing together since that morning when Geralt had disappeared into the mists of the forest. Jaskier hadn’t even argued with him about tagging along. The little clearing was too serene to leave just to witness the gory demise of some nefarious beast.

The horse’s ears pricked in his direction, but it made no other indication that she was really paying him any attention. Roach and Geralt had too many similar habits to be healthy. Man and beast should not have the same ability to show disinterest, especially not toward someone so interesting as Jaskier. Though Roach did let him scritch her and press kisses to her long face when Geralt wasn’t looking, so Jaskier would forgive her. He always forgave Geralt after all. 

“It is a bit maudlin,” Jaskier nodded, moving his fingers a little faster to give the tune a bit more pep. Roach still didn’t really respond, but Jaskier smiled. This version was definitely better. 

Head tipping back to rest against the trunk of the tree, Jaskier closed his eyes and continued to play his lute. It was a relaxing place, secluded from the chaos of the world. “It’s unfortunate that we’ll be leaving as soon as Geralt is finished with his business. It would be nice to spend a few days just quieted away here in the hollow, forgetting the world of men and monsters. Living in this serenity for just a time,” Jaskier mused as he continued to strum. 

Jaskier laughed which made Roach make a disgruntled noise as she hoofed at the soft earth. 

“I know. I’d be the first of us to grow restless, Roach. Imagine me being content to stay here for a few days without ale, or women, or—Geralt!” Jaskier sat up as he saw Geralt step into the clearing covered in gore and filth. 

Geralt didn’t say anything as he stood looking around first to Roach then to Jaskier. He was still holding his silver sword, but it was pointed down at the mossy ground and covered in dark blood. He didn’t look particularly out of breath, but he was often quiet and moody after a fight.

“Roach and I were just composing our next ballad. Roach thought it should be a little more upbeat, and I have to say I agree. How did monster hunting go? From the look and smell of you, I’d say it was a success. Thankfully, there’s a bit of a pond here to clean you up,” Jaskier rambled, not really expecting much in the way of response from Geralt. 

“Hmm.” Geralt walked toward his pack which was still strewn out beside his bedroll because Jaskier hadn’t actually packed up their little camp as he usually would. He began to pull off his armor without a word. His movements were slow and methodical.

Jaskier once again leaned back against the tree and began to strum away without a set melody in mind. He just let his fingers play aimlessly. 

“Let me see. How did this battle go? You stalked through the forest, using those witchery senses of yours to ferret out the beast...which kind was it again?” Jaskier paused his strumming, trying to recall if Geralt had even told him what he was looking for.

“Endrega nest.” Geralt didn’t look up from where he was knelt, beginning to clean the monster blood and bits off his armor.

“Endrega...yeah that one’s going to be hard to rhyme. What do they look like again?” 

“Large bugs with long tails.”

“How detailed of you,” Jaskier jibed as he tried to come up with an idea for a song. It wasn’t particularly inspiring. It was no striga or even a bruxa or other type of vampire. Those were romantic creatures—the sort of cursed beast that ballads were meant to be written about. Large insects with long tails weren’t exactly the stuff of fantastic epics. Women with fangs and claws who might tear you to shreds were the sort of thing that got the blood pumping. Not bugs. No one liked bugs.

Geralt didn’t seem concerned by Jaskier’s struggle to create poetry out of little more than grunts and vagaries. The man just didn’t understand the magic Jaskier wove from the table scraps he offered him.

Jaskier studied Geralt, searching for something in his demeanor to spark his creativity. Geralt’s shoulders were tense as he took care of his armor then his weapons. Jaskier could see a dark bruise forming on Geralt’s jaw. It would probably be gone by morning, but it was currently a deep purple with green tinging the edges. 

“Endrega’s got a nasty right hook?” Jaskier asked, placing his lute down and finally rising from his seat. He felt his joints pop as he slowly walked over to Geralt. He couldn’t help his concern even if he knew geralt was fine.

“I got thrown head first into a tree,” Geralt corrected him, sounding amused which for him might as well have been outright laughter.

“Into a tree you say? Is this tree still standing?” Jaskier asked, kneeling down beside Geralt and reaching out to tip the witcher’s head up, so he could get a better look at the damage. That would have certainly been a broken jaw for a regular human if not worse.

“It was a sturdy tree.”

“Lucky for the tree. Not so lucky for your enviable jawline.” Jaskier ran his fingers over the aforementioned jawline without hesitation. Geralt didn’t even flinch. 

Jaskier tried to keep back the flush of emotion that he always got when Geralt let him be gentle with him. He knew that Geralt rarely let anyone close enough to care never mind be caring toward him. So, despite Geralt’s words to the contrary, Jaskier clearly meant something to him.

They sat beside each other while Geralt worked, Jaskier leaning against him slightly. 

“We’ll need to stay another night,” Geralt finally said, finishing with his sword and sliding it back into its pack with its partner.

“It’s fine, Geralt. Really. I was just being whimsical. I don’t expect—”

“I saw signs of something else out there while I was destroying the nest. I’ll need to go out tonight,” Geralt clarified, leaving no doubt about his true intentions. It had nothing to do with Jaskier’s flights of fancy, just monsters.

“Right. Another monster. Here in the creepy forest. I, for one, am shocked,” Jaskier said, sitting back and sighing. 

Geralt grunted, beginning to unbutton his shirt. He peeled the shirt off his damp skin and carried it to the small spring the burbled up in the quaint hollow. 

Jaskier’s eyes followed him as he carefully cleaned the leather without submerging it in the water. He took in the scars that littered Geralt’s skin, and he even catalogued the wounds that Geralt had sustained in today’s adventure. It had become a habit when they traveled together, just making note of the injuries because Geralt rarely paid them any mind even when he probably should.

“At least let me stitch your side before you go out to get yourself torn to bits again,” Jaskier said, shuffling over to his pack to gather the supplies he’d need. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d stitched Geralt up, and hopefully it wouldn’t be the last. Not that he particularly enjoyed the habit, but so long as Geralt was alive he’d sustain injuries from hunting monsters. Only death would bring an end to that.

“What happens if you don’t return one morning?” Jaskier asked quietly as he seated himself beside Geralt once again, spreading his supplies over his lap. He removed his doublet and rolled his sleeves up to his elbows to make it easier to work.

“You’ll take Roach and find a tavern to sing your dirge to,” Geralt said, lifting his hand to rest on Jaskier’s shoulder, giving him access to the gash just beneath Geralt’s ribs. 

The wound was still bleeding sluggishly as Jaskier cleaned away the crusting blood and dirt. Geralt never flinched as Jaskier’s fingers carefully tended to him. Geralt barely grunted as Jaskier prodded at the wound, deciding that it didn’t actually need stitches but one of Geralt’s ointments would certainly help it along. Geralt was usually a good patient, allowing Jaskier to tend to him even if it wasn’t actually necessary. Geralt’s ability to heal was far superior to Jaskier’s own, so he often misjudged what actually required attention. However, Geralt let him fuss. He might not talk or help, but he didn’t turn away Jaskier’s concern. 

“It would be a great song. Full of heroics and glory,” Jaskier said, carefully spreading the wretched smelling ointment over Geralt’s torn skin. He was getting rather good at this, and he wasn’t sure how he should feel about that. 

“I am sure that my death will bring you plenty of coin, Jaskier.” Geralt clapped him on the shoulder, giving him a fond smile. How the man said such things with fondness was beyond Jaskier.

“Your death will bring me coin. Do you think that that is all you mean to me?” Jaskier asked, feeling like he’d just been doused in the cold spring water. He knew he could frustrate Geralt, but Geralt could make his blood boil just as much.

“Whatever I mean to you will not matter when I’m dead. Keeping yourself fed and clothed will be more pressing.” Geralt had an infuriating way of being utilitarian when it came to himself yet willing to bend over backwards when it came to the struggles of others. 

“Right, well, you best hurry off then. Wouldn’t want to hold you back from your mission to the grave,” Jaskier said, picking up his things and bringing them back to his pack.

“Stay in this hollow. Don’t venture into the forest no matter what you hear or see. And keep the fire going,” Geralt ordered as he pulled his shirt on once again. 

“Right...of course. No venturing into the forest,” Jaskier muttered like a petulant child. 

Geralt stalked over to him and squeezed his shoulder roughly. “I will return. Your fears of my demise are premature. Now, get some rest,” Geralt said gruffly, giving him one more squeeze.

“Be safe,” Jaskier said, standing and moving closer to Geralt. He helped him into his armor again, tightening the fastenings while Geralt pulled on his gloves. They’d done this many times now, and it was almost soothing to Jaskier, but he was afraid to ask Geralt if it had the same effect on him.

Jaskier watched as Geralt removed his bag of potions, looking carefully at what he had before tucking a couple into his armor. Then he removed a familiar potion and gulped down the whole thing. Jaskier watched as the color leached from Geralt’s face, and his pupils gradually grew until they swallowed up the golden irises and the whites of his eyes. The veins webbed beneath his eyes and over his brow, leaving him looking like some sort of devil. 

Finally, he walked to his pack and removed a long silver chain, wrapping it over his shoulder. Geralt simply hummed before removing his newly cleaned blade and heading back into the darkening woods. Jaskier watched him go, feeling the anxious energy that descended upon the hollow. He wouldn’t sleep this night either, waiting for Geralt’s return.

* * *

It was close to dawn when a cry broke the quiet of the night. Jaskier had been sitting on his bedroll, writing by firelight since Geralt had insisted he keep the fire blazing. Seconds later, a massive beast that broke through the trees before howling at the roaring fire. 

“A werewolf?” Jaskier cried, jumping to his feet and scrambling around the flame to keep it between him and the monster. The beast’s massive teeth were bared and covered in blood and bits of its last meal. Jaskier had a fleeting thought that he hoped that last meal wasn’t Geralt.

Geralt crashed into to clearing a moment later, letting out a shout to get the beast’s attention. The creature tore its eyes away from Jaskier and back toward Geralt who was swinging the massive silver chain.

“This is not what I was imagining when I mentioned staying a few days,” Jaskier muttered as he inched around the fire toward Geralt’s pack. He wasn’t terrified. Geralt was here. He’d handle the monster. Jaskier just didn’t want to be unarmed with six inch claws flying around. 

Jaskier slid Geralt’s iron blade out of the pack and moved quickly toward Roach. The blade would do little to kill the beast, but it was a great deal better than Jaskier’s other option—which would be to run away screaming. “And just when we were having a pleasant evening,” he muttered to Roach.

The horse seemed only mildly unnerved by the battle occuring in their little camp. Jaskier was a bit envious of the animal’s comfort with Geralt’s work. As much as Jaskier petitioned to get close to the action, he didn’t actually want to be within mauling distance. His absolute faith in Geralt’s ability to slay any beast didn’t necessarily extend to protecting any fool who got in the way.

The giant wolf swung its lethal claws at Geralt, but the witcher dove and rolled away from the attack, landing hard near the edge of the clearing. This gave the beast a moment to turn its attention back to Jaskier who was holding Geralt’s sword as steadily as could be expected of him in such a situation. The adrenaline alone was leaving his hands shaking.

Jaskier stood firmly in front of Roach as the beast stalked across the camp in their direction. It walked on two legs, knuckles practically dragging in the dirt as it advanced. He held the sword aloft as Geralt had taught him on the few occasions they’d both been drunk enough to playfully duel. 

Jaskier could smell the beast as it approached, and he would never complain about Geralt’s odor again. The creature stank of blood and wet fur, and it turned his stomach despite having foregone dinner that evening.

“Stay back you horrid creature,” Jaskier commanded, waving the sword threateningly. “You may think you scare me, but I’ve been growled at more times than I can count by a much scarier wolf.”

The werewolf growled, pausing for a moment as though to consider Jaskier’s words before launching itself at Jaskier.

“Oh fuck,” Jaskier yelped at the beast soared across the distance between them.

Just as the werewolf descended, about to end Jaskier with a single blow, the silver chain wrapped around its neck. Before the creature could touch a hair on Jaskier’s head, the beast was yanked back by Geralt.

Jaskier’s eyes were wide as the monster was launched back across the hollow toward Geralt, being dragged through the fire in the process, stealing the only source of light. It howled angrily as Geralt used his unnatural strength to continue to pull the beast in.

The werewolf scrambled to its feet as it got close to Geralt once again, breaking free of the silver chain. It lunged at Geralt, but Geralt met it with a firm punch from the silver knuckles he wore over his gloves.

Jaskier wiped at the sweat on his brow and tried to steady himself as he watched them fight. Geralt took as many hits as the beast, and Jaskier cringed each time he was thrown against a tree or hit with those giant clawed hands. 

“Come on, Geralt,” Jaskier muttered as the beast landed a particularly sickening blow to Geralt’s shoulder. The armor protected him somewhat, but Jaskier could still see blood seeping from the armor’s weak points.

The beast towered over Geralt as Geralt collapsed to his knees, clutching his sword.

“No! No, no, no,” Jaskier said, once again hefting the sword up and pitching himself at the beast. “Over here, you mangy whoreson,” he cried.

The werewolf’s head turned to Jaskier who was running full speed at the beast with a weapon that would do little more than sting. Thankfully, his stupidity was enough of a distraction, and Geralt thrust his silver blade up into the beast’s gut.

The hollow was filled with a deafening howl as the beast looked down at the sword protruding from its stomach. It batted the blade away and lifted Geralt up, breathing into his face with teeth bared, saliva dripping onto Geralt.

Jaskier cursed, coming up short as the monster shoved Geralt against a tree and opened its massive jaws. Ducking behind the creature, Jaskier picked up the discarded silver blade and turned. He didn’t think as he drove the blade into the beast’s back with all of his might. 

Another howl rent the air, and Jaskier let go of the blade and sprinted for the other side of the hollow. The beast dropped Geralt and turned, grasping Jaskier’s ankle before he could escape.

“Fuck,” Jaskier yelped, trying to shake the beast but knowing it was pointless.

Geralt, however, was already on the beast’s back, pulling the blade free and driving it back into the beast’s neck then twisting. This time there was only a weak whimper as the werewolf collapsed into the torn up moss in front of Jaskier.

Jaskier’s heart was pounding as he looked up at Geralt who was still straddling the creature’s massive back. 

Geralt looked exhausted. His eyes were still black, and the veins had yet to recede. His hair was a mess, half in his face since the tie had been lost at some time during the fight. The strands stuck to his sweat drenched skin, and his throat was smeared with blood where the werewolf’s claw had caught the edge of his armor.

However, Jaskier couldn’t take his eyes off him as he sat beside the fire unsure what to do. The beast’s claws were still wrapped around his ankle, but his attention was fully focused on Geralt rather than his own situation. He felt utter relief weighing him down, but he also felt the coils of arousal tightening in his own belly as he watched Geralt slowly slide his blade out of the creature’s neck and wipe it on its fur.

“You should have told me you were inviting friends to our little getaway here in the woods,” Jaskier said, trying to break the tension that was still heavy in the air.

“Hmm,” Geralt said, walking around the beast until he was standing just in front of Jaskier. He swung his blade down, severing the hand that still gripped Jaskier’s ankle, and immediately Jaskier felt the pressure release. 

Pulling his leg free, he slowly got to his feet, accepting Geralt’s help when he was a bit wobbly. 

“Well, that was certainly exciting. Thank you for that. Definitely more song worthy than the large insect monsters. In fact, this encounter shall be my best ballad to date. The valiant White Wolf battled the villainous werewolf to save his...dearest friend from the jaws of death,” Jaskier rambled as Geralt began to strip out of his armor followed by his shirt, revealing his bare chest to Jaskier’s hungry gaze. The display of broad chest, bulging muscles, sweat, and a fair share of blood only made Jaskier speak faster because it was either ramble about monsters or say something unforgivable. 

“A monster kills a monster,” Geralt said self-deprecatingly.

“What?” Jaskier asked in confusion. Surely, Geralt saw the difference between him and the monster that had just tried to devour Jaskier without so much as a second thought. 

Geralt stalked toward Jaskier like Jaskier was a meek sort of prey he intended to devour whole. His presence seemed to suck all of the air out of Jaskier’s poor lungs. He was overwhelming.

Jaskier couldn’t escape with Geralt right there in his face, black eyes staring right into him in the darkness. His face was grim, but he also wore another expression that Jaskier was familiar with. It was the expression he wore after being on the Path too long between villages. The look he wore after killing a monster and needing an outlet for his energy. It was the expression that often led him to hole up in a brothel for days straight, fucking himself to exhaustion or satiation whichever came first.

“Aren’t I horrifying? Aren’t I monstrous?” Geralt asked as he crowded into Jaskier’s space. Their heights weren’t much different, but Geralt seemed to take up the whole hollow in that moment, sucking all of the air away from Jaskier. Jaskier realized that perhaps part of the reason he didn’t let Jaskier tag along was that he didn’t want him to see Geralt as others did. A monster. It was a sickening realization.

“No,” Jaskier managed to get out firmly. “Your eyes have never bothered me, in any form.” With bravery that Jaskier hadn’t known he possessed, he brought his fingers up to run them over the veins that webbed beneath Geralt’s eyes. 

“You reek of arousal,” Geralt practically growled.

Jaskier swallowed thickly, hoping he wasn’t misreading Geralt’s hungry expression. “What can I say? Barely surviving a werewolf attack has made me eager to celebrate the pleasures of the flesh.”

“You were in no danger of dying,” Geralt said, sounding completely confident.

“Yes, you certainly did put in a masterful performance...which is arousing in its own right. I mean, I am but a simple man Geralt. Such virile grunts and strapping muscles…” 

Geralt grunted, but he reached up and wrapped his hand around the back of Jaskier’s neck, pulling him in for a savage kiss which effectively ended his tangent. Jaskier was not about to complain. 

Jaskier wasn’t prepared for it, though he doubted any amount of preparation would have made him truly ready for the hungry way that Geralt kissed him. There was no doubt that Geralt’s arousal matched his own as he pulled Jaskier flush against him.

Geralt’s other hand came to the small of Jaskier’s back, holding him close as he bit Jaskier’s bottom lip until Jaskier gasped. Then he slipped his tongue into Jaskier’s mouth with practiced ease. 

Jaskier was swept up in the possessive way that Geralt kissed, leaving Jaskier to hang on and experience rather than lead as he normally would. It was all encompassing, and Jaskier found himself breathless almost immediately. 

Geralt pulled back just enough to rest their foreheads together as Jaskier panted for breath. His hands went to Jaskier’s doublet which Jaskier had redonned during the night as the temperatures dropped. He was surprisingly careful with the delicate fabric, undoing the buttons quickly but without damage.

Jaskier was stunned by the way Geralt worked, watching his large hands work the buttons with no trouble at all. When the doublet was roughly pushed from his shoulders, Jaskier shivered though it had little to do with the cold. How many times had he imagined this very moment?

“I didn’t really take you for one to be careful of your partner’s clothing…”

Geralt grunted, quickly working the closure on Jaskier’s pants. “If it saves me a headache when we’re through…” his words trailed off as he shoved Jaskier’s pants and small clothes down his thighs. 

Jaskier was winding himself up to be offended by the remark when Geralt’s hand wrapped itself around his cock, and all thought was lost. He moaned into the crook of Geralt’s neck, grasping at his biceps to keep himself grounded.

Geralt pushed him backward to the edge of the hollow, pinning him against a tree before sinking to his knees in front of Jaskier. He quickly removed Jaskier’s boots and stripped him of his pants completely before leaning in and biting Jaskier’s inner thigh.

Jaskier gasped, feeling the knot in his gut grow tighter at the sudden flash of pain. Geralt didn’t linger though, once again rising and pressing Jaskier against the rough bark of the tree. 

Geralt was still wearing his pants and boots, and Jaskier still had his shirt on, but both of them were too distracted to completely divest the other. Geralt’s mouth latched onto Jaskier’s throat, nipping him and sucking a bruise into his skin that left Jaskier feeling dizzy and uncoordinated as he dug his fingers into Geralt’s back and buried one of his hands in his tangled hair. Geralt rucked Jaskier’s shirt up his chest, exposing him almost completely.

Jaskier tugged at Geralt’s hair, and that only seemed to drive the witcher wild as he kissed his way down Jaskier’s chest, fingers combing through the hair that covered him from neck to navel. Jaskier’s eyes rolled back as Geralt’s teeth teased one of his nipples and his hand once again began to stroke him roughly. 

There was no time for shyness or uncertainty as Geralt commanded all of Jaskier’s attention. Still, he was not prepared as Geralt lifted him up and guided his legs around Geralt’s hips. His back ground against the tree, but the pain only spurred on his arousal as Geralt stripped his cock while kissing him roughly. 

“As much as I—ah, tighter...please, I won’t break—love what you’re doing to me. Might I implore you to let me get my hands on you as—that’s it, yes! Sweet Melitele, keep doing that—what was I asking you again?” Jaskier rambled, gripping Geralt’s shoulders for dear life as the witcher bombarded him.

Geralt grunted, not bothering to pull his lips away from Jaskier’s jaw where he was nipping playfully. However, the hand that cradled Jaskier beneath his thighs moved. Jaskier wasn’t sure why until he felt Geralt’s trousers sag slightly and then felt Geralt’s erection press behind his sac.

Jaskier shuddered, clinging to Geralt like his life depended on it as Geralt guided his cock between them. Jaskier looked down as Geralt began to stroke them together, using the tree to hold Jaskier in position. 

“Fuck, Geralt…” Jaskier lost the ability to talk as Geralt teased the head of his cock as he ground their hip together creating a breathtaking friction between them.

Jaskier reached down and wrapped his hand around Geralt’s setting a slower pace for fear he’d end this too soon. As it was, the knot in his stomach felt about ready to burst.

Geralt grunted, squeezing them both as he kissed Jaskier again. It only took a couple more insistent strokes and Jaskier lost the war with his body. He mumbled a string of warnings and apologies as he felt his stomach clench and a wave of white pleasure washed over him.

Jaskier’s cock erupted over Geralt’s fist, and his come quickly coated both of their cocks. Jaskier’s eyes were glued to the erotic scene as he felt several aftershocks rock through him while Geralt continued to stroke them. It was all becoming too much, and he let out a whine from the overstimulation as he pressed his nose to Geralt’s neck.

He felt Geralt tense and spill between them as well, grunting as he slowed his hand. Geralt continued to hold him against the tree as they both caught their breath. He could feel the bruises on his skin where Geralt’s mouth had bitten or sucked him. He could also feel the scrapes across his back from being pinned against the tree.

Still, Jaskier didn’t ask to be put down. He continued to press his face into Gealt’s neck as Geralt held him steady. It was a moment to be cherished. A moment that Jaskier would write a thousand songs about which would never be sung for anyone but himself.

Slowly, Geralt pulled back. His eyes were still black, and it surprised Jaskier as he raised his hand to once again trace the veins around them.

“Shouldn’t this have worn off by now?” he asked with a little worry threaded into his voice. Perhaps there was something wrong with Geralt that he hadn’t noticed earlier.

Geralt turned his face away from Jaskier’s touch, and Jaskier felt his stomach sink knowing he’d said the wrong thing. He opened his mouth to try to correct himself, but Geralt spoke.

“I took a second potion when the beast tried to flee. That’s how it had the chance to get to you...though it would have anyway had I not taken the potions again,” Geralt explained.

Jaskier suddenly remembered just how long Geralt had been gone and how long he must have been fighting or tracking the beast. It was no wonder he needed release for the tension that had undoubtedly built up.

“Right, so you’re in the thick of it,” Jaskier said which only made Geralt move his face further away.

Jaskier caught him by the chin and forced him to look at him. “Stop looking away. I’ll start to think you don’t like my face,” Jaskier said, gently stroking Geralt’s cheek. 

Geralt grunted, but he let Jaskier continue to touch him. He lifted Jaskier from the tree and walked back to their partially destroyed camp, depositing Jaskier on his bedroll which was miraculously undisturbed by the fight.

Without the fire to keep him warm any longer, Jaskier shivered against the dewy air of the predawn. Geralt didn’t seem to notice the cold as he stripped out of his boots and leather pants. He walked to his pack, completely naked and unabashed, and he tossed Jaskier one of the pelts they used on cold nights.

Jaskier tucked himself beneath the heavy fur, but he continued to watch Geralt as he went about the process of cleaning his armor and his weapons. He was always so thorough and careful with them, and Jaskier couldn’t tear his eyes away from the whole ritual. Jaskier was mostly asleep by the time Geralt was finished taking care of his belongings. He was only vaguely aware as Geralt checked on Roach, sneaking her some sort of treat he’d stowed away in his pack for her.

Geralt rifled through his things again before moving to Jaskier once again. He held several things in his hands as he knelt beside him and pulled the fur from Jaskier’s body.

“Careful Geralt. I warn you that I am more ferocious than a werewolf when one steals my warm covers,” Jaskier mumbled, still only half awake as Geralt laid down beside him. 

“Won’t need the covers in a moment,” Geralt said as he pulled Jaskier’s ruined shirt up over his head and dropped it beside them. 

“Won’t I?” Jaskier asked, stretching out with a yawn. 

He was only half surprised when Geralt rolled on top of him and settled between his long legs. The hungry look hadn’t faded since they’d fucked. Geralt had just had more pressing matters to attend to. Now, with his weapons, armor, and horse attended to, Geralt’s focus was once again firmly on Jaskier.

Geralt growled as he once again bit Jaskier where his shoulder met his neck, laying claim or demanding submission—Jaskier couldn’t be sure which. Either way, it sent his heart racing and his body thrumming. 

Jaskier rolled his hips against Geralt, moaning as he felt how aroused the man above him already was. His mouth had a mind of its own as he muttered absolute filth. He took hold of Geralt’s cock and began to stroke him.

Geralt let out a pleased sound as he began to rock his hips into Jaskier’s fist. He didn’t stop his assault on Jaskier’s neck and chest, but he slowly began to work his way down Jaskier’s body eventually forcing Jaskier to release his hold on him.

“I am going to have my way with you one of these times,” Jaskier insisted as Geralt wrapped his hands around Jaskier’s hips and suddenly flipped him onto his stomach.

Geralt was on him before he could wiggle at all, pressing Jaskier into the mat beneath him and biting his neck again. Callused fingers pressed into Jaskier’s lower back, releasing tension he hadn’t even realized his been carrying. 

Jaskier went pliant in Geralt’s grasp, and Geralt quickly pulled him up until his ass was on display. Jaskier’s shouts broke the silence of the hollow as Geralt buried his tongue in him without so much as a word of warning. 

Any protests Jaskier might have had died on his lips as he bit his own arm to keep from making too much noise. Thoughts of their lack of bathing in the days prior to this little adventure faded from memory as Geralt’s tongue plunged deep, stealing any of the little sense Jaskier had once been equipped with. 

Geralt’s tongue was soon joined by slicked fingers, and Jaskier’s senses were filled with the pleasant aroma of the oils that Geralt carried in his pack. Geralt was thorough as he opened Jaskier with his mouth and fingers, making sure to tease Jaskier’s prostate in the process and further incapacitate the man with pleasure.

Jaskier was too aroused to consider the size of Geralt and his very clear intentions. He was helpless but to ride the waves of pleasure that Geralt was causing him.

When Geralt removed his mouth and draped himself over Jaskier’s back again, Jaskier had a fleeting thought as to how he was going to be able to take the witcher. However, as Geralt began to press into him while taking Jaskier’s cock in hand again, he lost all ability to consider anything but what he was currently feeling which was overwhelmed.

Jaskier tried to steady his breathing as he felt the head of Geralt’s cock press inside of him, but it was  _ difficult _ . 

“Breathe,” Geralt grunted, stopping his movements and holding Jaskier to his chest so he could feel Geralt’s own steady breaths.

“Not all of us are mutated to remain calm even when being torn in half,” Jaskier panted as he squeezed his eyes closed.

“Hmm.”

“Now is not the time for grunts. Keep touching my damn cock, or I have half a mind to impale you instead.” Jaskier didn’t have any mind to do that. In fact, he was quite certain he’d go mad if Geralt pulled his cock free of him. However, he would not be told how to take a cock of Geralt’s size when he was certain the witcher had never experienced such a thing himself.

“Are you finished?” Geralt asked as he began to stroke Jaskier again while remaining still behind him. He was all growl as he continued to bite at Jaskier’s shoulders.

“Y-yes,” Jaskier conceded. 

Geralt pressed forward again, steadily. It stole Jaskier’s breath just the same as before, but he bore down on the intrusion and took Geralt without having to stop him again. When Geralt’s hips came to rest against his ass, Jaskier was certain he would pass out from the pleasure and pressure of being so full.

Jaskier whimpered as Geralt pulled back before thrusting in again. He couldn’t form coherent thoughts, but his mouth formed words or at least sounds as Geralt created a demanding pace. 

The hand around his cock teased the head before reaching lower to play with his balls while Geralt continued to rock into him. Jaskier pressed his face against his arms which were braced on the bedroll beneath him, hands clutching at anything within reach. 

Geralt grunted as he picked up the pace, sweat dripping off of him onto Jaskier’s back. Their slick skin created truly lurid noises as their bodies met again and again. What a picture they must have made, grasping at each other and meeting each other thrust for thrust while a dead werewolf lay only paces away.

Jaskier was beyond keeping himself quiet, and his words became noises which became cries of unadulterated pleasure as Geralt found the perfect angle and hammered into him relentlessly. 

Things became a blur as Jaskier spilled onto his bedroll. His body was overcome with pleasure as Geralt bit down hard on his shoulder and buried himself to the hilt. They both shook as Geralt pulled free causing his seed to drip down the insides of Jaskier’s thighs. 

Jaskier felt Geralt’s warm tongue swipe over the trails of come that had leaked out of him. His body shuddered as Geralt cleaned him with his mouth, lapping the come out of him gently. 

His entire body felt heavy and sated as Geralt continued to lick his skin, moving up his back laving at their combined sweat which stuck to Jaskier’s skin. It was possibly the filthiest thing a partner had ever done to him, licking the signs of the coupling away from every plane and crevice of his body. Jaskier moaned as Geralt rolled him onto his back and took his flaccid cock in his mouth, licking away Jaskier’s release, then licking at the come that had clung to his belly and smeared in his chest hair.

“I think that is more disgusting than watching you pull your bloody sword out of the werewolf’s neck,” Jaskier said, laughing as Geralt nuzzled his belly which tickled.

Geralt grunted, but he didn’t stop nuzzling or tasting Jaskier’s skin. Perhaps he wasn’t self conscious about it because despite Jaskier’s words, his cock twitched each time Geralt did it. Then again, Geralt was rarely self conscious about how often he stank of monster guts and body odor. The man just didn’t mind being dirty in any capacity.

Jaskier was hardly recovered when Geralt pulled him into his lap and let Jaskier ride him. Their sweat had hardly dried before it was pouring off of them again. Jaskier wasn’t hard as he impaled himself on Geralt’s cock, milking him for all he was worth until his own body caught up. He buried his fingers in Geralt’s chest hair as he rode Geralt hard and fast. 

He could hardly catch his breath as Geralt grasped his hips and took control, thrusting up into him with the same punishing pace he’d set. Jaskier fisted his own cock as Geralt met him thrust for thrust, sending Jaskier’s head spinning in a dizzying sort of pleasure. His whole body buzzed with arousal until he was spilling all over Geralt’s stomach and letting out a shout that would scare away any creatures nearby. 

Geralt took him against another tree the fourth time, and Jaskier returned the favor the sixth time, though his legs gave out as soon as it was over, causing his come to leak down Geralt’s legs, so he returned the favor Geralt had done him earlier and lapped it up. They fucked where they’d collapsed the seventh time, and after that it was all a blur of pleasure that Jaskier couldn’t pull apart if he tried.

* * *

Jaskier came to with Geralt’s weight draped over his back. He could still feel Geralt’s cock buried in his ass despite having gone soft. His entire body ached from their activities, and the hollow itself smelled like a combination of sex and death. 

Looking around, the whole area was torn apart. Between the battle with the werewolf and their desperate lovemaking, the mossy ground had been torn up. There were several branches strewn about which hadn’t been strong enough to support their weight, or hadn’t survived Geralt or the bast being thrown into them. The wildflowers had been trampled. Only Roach stood seemingly undisturbed, munching at the last blossom that hadn’t met its end in a storm of passion.

“Geralt,” Jaskier mumbled, lacing his fingers with Geralt’s where his arm rested over Jaskier’s stomach.

Geralt didn’t speak, but he squeezed Jaskier’s fingers and nuzzled the nape of his neck. 

“How long have we been…” he trailed off, at a loss for what to call what they’d done. It wasn’t just lust, and to call it lovemaking would have been met with immediate rejection. 

“At least two days,” Geralt said, voice low and raspy. 

“Two days?” Jaskier’s voice was a little sharper than he hoped.

“Perhaps three. I lost track for a while,” Geralt admitted.

Jaskier was floored. Not only had the witcher lost himself in their sex haze, he had admitted to it, and he didn’t sound particularly concerned about that—like they weren’t just lying out in the elements.

“Three? No wonder I feel like I no longer possess the power to move my own limbs,” Jaskier groaned. He wasn’t even kidding. He felt about as coordinated as he did after far too much ale.

“Hmm.” 

Jaskier wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting Geralt to say, but he really shouldn’t have been so surprised that it was only  _ hmm _ . 

Geralt’s hand began to travel lower, bringing Jaskier’s with it, and slowly wrapped around Jaskier’s half-hard cock.

“Geralt, I fear it will fall off if you give it your brutish treatment again,” Jaskier whined even as he felt himself growing hard. 

Jaskier gasped as he felt Geralt slip free of him. It was odd not to be filled after so long, and he wiggled at the sensation. However, he was soon distracted as Geralt rolled him onto his back. 

Geralt knelt between his legs and took Jaskier in his mouth with little warning. Jaskier sighed, enjoying the wet heat of Geralt’s mouth.

“Fine, once more, but don’t expect me to reciprocate. I’m afraid my jaw will take weeks to recover after the last time and my throat...we will starve if it’s too sore to sing,” Jaskier complained even as he buried his fingers in Geralt’s hair.

For his part, Geralt seemed to ignore Jaskier’s ramblings in favor of taking his entire cock as deeply into his mouth as possible. Jaskier was by no means small, but Geralt took him down to the root, pressing his nose to Jaksier’s pubic bone. 

Jaskier played with Geralt’s hair as the witcher took his time getting Jaskier fully aroused. It was tender and relaxed compared to the frantic, heated sex they’d been having for days. 

Geralt cupped Jaskier’s aching testicles, massaging them gently between callused fingers. The sensation of the soft touch of rough fingers was delightful. 

“Don’t stop,” Jaskier sighed, throwing an arm over his face and letting his legs fall open wider. 

Geralt hummed, and the vibration sent Jaskier’s back arching as he balls tightened, and he felt himself spill down Geralt’s throat. More precisely he felt his body try to spill down Geralt’s throat, but by this point he’d practically been wrung dry leaving only a small dribble to release.

Jaskier moaned as Geralt released his softening cock and nuzzled the hair surrounding it. He knew Geralt didn’t care, but he felt self conscious about how much he had to smell by this point. They’d been fucking for days straight—sweating heavily and rolling around in the dirt as they did it. Not to mention, the days of travel prior and the fight with the monster. He tried to push Geralt’s face away, but Geralt growled at him and buried his nose in the crease where Jaskier’s thigh met his body. 

“Are you not finished with me yet?” Jaskier asked, feeling overwhelmed at the thought of Geralt still needing release.

“We should be going soon, or I won’t be paid for this contract,” Geralt said, moving up Jaskier’s body until he was draped over him once again. 

“Geralt, I doubt I can stand, never mind ride after what you’ve done to me,” Jaskier complained, looking up into Geralt’s yellow eyes. They’d returned to their natural state not long after the second round of sex, though Geralt had still carried the wild look in them. Now though, he looked sated and—dare Jaskier think it—content.

“Another night but no longer,” Geralt acquiesced without argument. 

Jaskier snorted. “I believe I told you this before, but I do not have witcher healing. I will be lucky if I am not walking bowlegged in a week’s time.”

Geralt frowned, reached down to run his fingers over Jaskier’s inner thighs, causing Jaskier to shiver. 

“You didn’t tell me to stop.” It was almost accusatory, but Jaskier slapped him on the chest.

“Perhaps because I didn’t want you to. You think you are the only one that needs a little release after a life or death struggle? I am just telling you that I am merely human, and my body doesn’t heal as quickly as I perhaps wish it would.” Jaskier’s hand stayed on Geralt’s firm chest, rubbing it gently. It was nice to just touch him without fear that it might not be welcome.

Jaskier could see the cogs turning in Geralt’s mind, and he threw his hands up. “Are you comparing me to the woman you pay to sleep with for days?” 

He didn’t actually wait for Geralt to respond, hoping that Geralt wouldn’t be stupid enough for this to be the question he actually gave an affirmative answer to.

“Those women do not have to walk for days straight after you leave them. They certainly don’t have to ride a horse. I promise you this is not me being overly dramatic, just unfortunately human.”

Geralt made a sound that was more of a rumble in his chest rather than anything that passed his lips, and suddenly Jaskier was being scooped up into his arms and carried to the spring. Geralt waded into the crystalline waters with Jaskier still in his arms, and despite the chill of the water, it felt incredibly soothing.

Jaskier wrapped his arms around Geralt’s shoulders and let Geralt keep him afloat as he relaxed. Geralt actually carefully rubbed his skin free of the sweat and dirt that clung to him. 

“You are not merely or unfortunately anything,” Geralt said after a long while. Jaskier hummed against Geralt’s skin where his head rested on his shoulder. 

Jaskier was only partially awake when Geralt carried him back to their packs. Geralt spread out the heavy pelt which somehow was one of the few things they hadn’t fucked on. Jaskier stretched out on it as soon as Geralt put him down, humming at how nice it felt beneath him.

Geralt rolled him onto his belly, and if Jaskier hadn’t been completely exhausted he would’ve praised Geralt as he began to massage Jaskier’s aching muscles with oil slick hands. 

Jaskier was fairly certain he was in paradise as Geralt worked out the knots in his back and legs. His strong fingers dug into Jaskier's flesh working out the tension with ease. It was such a departure from what Geralt's hands were most often used for, but he could be gentle and caring, and it was obvious in the way that he relieved Jaskier's aching body. 

Geralt took his time, working slowly from Jaskier's shoulders all the way down to his feet. He paused and waited when Jaskier made uncomfortable sounds if he used too much pressure or a spot was particularly tender. He adjusted his approach, and Jaskier always sighed with satisfaction when he started up again. 

Jaskier was particularly fond of the way Geralt massaged his aching feet. Weeks of walking from village to village left his feet practically raw, and Geralt's touch was like heaven as he worked the salve he carried with him into the soles of Jaskier's feet. 

When Geralt used the chamomile ointment to sooth his bottom, Jaskier didn’t fight the satisfied moan that slipped free. He was too relaxed to protest the salve that Geralt used on his abused hole, and it was worth any embarrassment it caused because he felt instant relief from the ache. He didn’t even fight sleep as it crept up on him again. 

Geralt would take care of him.

* * *

The morning sun woke Jaskier as the hollow filled with golden light. He smiled as he stretched his body, feeling the satisfying ache of pleasures found. He felt rejuvenated as he slowly sat up. 

The hollow no longer stank of death, and while it was still torn up, their camp was tidy again. Jaskier looked around for Geralt, but the witcher was not in the small clearing.

“Geralt?” Jaskier called softly.

Roach was no longer tethered to the tree, but she was across the clearing lapping up water from the spring.

Jaskier groped around for clothing, but he only came away with Geralt’s shirt. Unwilling to hunt further, he pulled the large shirt over his head. The thing fit Geralt loosely even with all of his muscles, so it fit Jaskier like a tent, but he didn’t really care. It was certainly better than the alternative...and it smelled like Geralt.

“Geralt,” Jaskier called again as he stepped around the fire which had been relit while he was asleep. 

Jaskier’s body ached, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as he had expected after what he’d put it through. 

Frankly, he wasn’t sure how Geralt was up and moving around even with his witcher healing. Between killing multiple monsters than spending three days in the throes of passion with Jaskier, even a witcher had to have his limits. Yet, Geralt seemed to have no such limits if his absence was anything to go by.

Jaskier ventured far enough into the trees to relieve himself, and when he returned Geralt was leaning against a tree holding a pair of rabbits he’d clearly caught for breakfast.

Geralt’s eyes looked him over, focusing mostly on his own shirt covering Jaskier’s chest. Jaskier smiled at him sheepishly. “I seem to recall my own shirt being sacrificed for the sake of cleaning my come out of your hair.”

Jaskier wasn’t expecting Geralt to outright laugh at that, but surprises never seemed to cease here in this tiny hollow. 

“A noble sacrifice if ever there was any,” Geralt joked, walking over to the fire and beginning to skin the rabbits.

“The makings of a great ballad.”

Geralt snorted.

“I’m sure it will be ready if I wash it and place it near the fire,” Jaskier said, looking around for the garment.

“Don’t bother. I have another shirt in my pack. You can have that...since I’m sure the stench of this one likely offends your senses.”

Jaskier blushed, but he didn’t argue. He knew Geralt was teasing him. After three days of being saturated in each other’s sweat, Geralt had to know that nothing about him really offended Jaskier’s senses.

Finding his lute, Jaskier took a seat beside Geralt and began to pluck away at the melody he’d been working on. “The wicked were stalked the sleeping bard…” he started to sing. 

Geralt shook his head as he began to roast one of the hares over the fire.

“Too heavy handed?”

“Hmm.”

“Fine. How about…”

Geralt’s teeth clamped over Jaskier’s shoulder, and Jaskier yelped.

“The werewolf was nothing compared to your appetites,” Jaskier said, swatting at Geralt. 

“Perhaps these last days do not need to be immortalized in song,” Geralt said softly.

Jaskier felt a small chill run down his spine. “You wish to forget them?”

“I would rather keep them just for us,” Geralt told him, nuzzling the spot on his neck that he had grown so fond of.

Jaskier shivered as Geralt breathed him in. 

“Coming back down is messy and raw and…”

“Vulnerable.” Jaskier finished the thought for him. 

Geralt didn’t say anything, kissing Jaskier’s neck gently instead.

“I suppose I would not be the greatest bard on the Continent if I couldn’t make a song about large insects with long tails compelling…”

Geralt laughed pulling the cooked hare back from the fire and tearing off a piece to hand to Jaskier. He ate in silence as Jaskier chattered away about anything that came to mind.

As the sun rose overhead, they packed away their camp and slowly set out for the village that had given Geralt the contract in the first place. Their pace was slow as they walked side by side. Jaskier strummed away at his lute while Geralt guided Roach. Their shoulders bumped on occasion, and Jaskier would send Geralt a smile as he came up with more and more ridiculous lyrics to a song that never seemed to end. 

Geralt didn’t complain. He spoke to Roach softly sometimes when Jaskier was being completely ridiculous. Other times, he openly watched Jaskier wander down the path with a contented smile.

“I know this mellow you won’t last, but perhaps we can take these sojourns more often. A few days on the coast, or a quiet night in the mountains. Work out all that tension you carry around.”

“Don’t push it, Bard.”

“Oh, I almost missed that gruff tone,” Jaskier teased.

Geralt bumped him with his shoulder, but he didn’t retort. 

“I’ve heard word of a possible contract near the coast…” Geralt said after a while of Jaskier’s quiet strumming.

Jaskier smiled. He wasn’t certain his body could withstand another  coming down , but he would certainly rather die trying than turn down such an open expression of Geralt’s affection.

“The coast is lovely this time of year,” he said, putting a little more spring in his step.


End file.
